


Forgotten for a Moment

by Anastasia_Ace



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint could probably do with a hug, Gen, Hallucinations, un-beta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anastasia_Ace/pseuds/Anastasia_Ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint goes through the motions of a mission aftermath, not realising something isn't quite right with his handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten for a Moment

**Author's Note:**

> So apologies for any mistakes. It's 1 AM, I've had Don't Fear the Reaper playing on repeat for probably too long and I'm still not sure about my sanity after seeing IM3. Ohhhh, and this is my first venture into writing for the Avengers fandom too. ^^

It isn't exactly famous and popular knowledge that Clint avoids medical. Either Coulson persuades him down eventually if he is badly wounded, or Clint'll appear with neat stitches and butterfly bandages on his more minor cuts and people just assume that he had gone. People are good at assuming things.  
So when he appears on Coulson's couch after a mission, he merely gets an unimpressed expression and a warning that "If you bleed on that cushion, Barton, you'll be taking it into the dry cleaners." The medical supplies have already been laid out on the desk, a cloth and bowl beside them to clean any dried blood away, as if Coulson had put them out in case he was called out and wasn't available when Clint, quite literally sometimes, dropped in. Years of being a handler to Clint had prepared him for many things and today he only shot the archer a cursory glance and gestured to the supplies. "You can tend to yourself for once. The new agents have handed in their first batch of paperwork and all seem to have had the same incompetent English teacher."  
Clint swiped the cloth off the table and dipped it in the water, eyes on Coulson and ignoring the faint puff of dust that disturbing the material had caused. "Face it sir, you've had to put up with much worse paperwork from Stark when you tried to suggest he do it when he was drunk. I mean, he loved the idea, but writing it with his fingers dipped in car grease wasn't really good enough to file."  
"Nor am I entirely sure what he wrote wasn't just equations towards a new way to hack into SHIELD security." Coulson sat back and rubbed his eyes before checking Clint's progress with tightened lips. "You should really have Medical check those burns and-" Clint cut across his words, absentmindedly wiping the lid of the burn cream clean on his trousers before flicking it open "And have no one kiss them better, sir?" which merely gained him a disinterested eye roll and the faint click of a ballpoint pen being clicked into use.

The faint click was accompanied by a pale stream of light from behind Clint that grew until his shadow was showing on the wall behind Coulson and he frowned, turning around as Coulson kept his eyes focused on the papers in front of him.  
"Clint." The voice wasn't questioning, but held a note of something indefinable that Clint missed as he turned his back to Natasha, registering her as no threat in this enviroment. His name was repeated and he spoke to her over his shoulder, waggling his pinkie finger with a small cut in front of Coulson. "He's refusing to kiss it better, after so many years of service. Maybe you'd prefer to?" He grinned, voice light and teasing but turning serious when he saw the look on her face. "Nat? Something wrong?"  
"Who's refusing to kiss your cuts better?" and the words caught in Clint's throat as he made to reply, because surely Coulson was right there and what was wrong that Natasha wasn't acknowledging that? She wasn't one to play childish games like ignoring someone who had annoyed her. He turned back to throw a puzzled look at Coulson but he had gone. Only shadows marked his chair and thick dust lay over the arms and abandoned paperwork. Clint felt a hand on his shoulder, too small and cold to be Coulson's but Clint couldn't turn, couldn't move, could only choke words past uncooperating lips. "He's dead."  
With that he saw the dust that lay over the medical supplies too, the shapes of things he had moved bright patches in the signs of abandonment, the pen lying haphazardly from when Coulson had left his office to stop Loki. The hand on his shoulder gently guided him towards the door and he let it because he knew Coulson was gone, wasn't sure why he had come back to the office as if he could go through the normal aftermath of a mission with his handler. He had just... forgotten for a moment.


End file.
